


Vestra and Bergliez blow $#!& up.

by idanato



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Action/Adventure, Buddy comedy, Gen, Hubert POV, Includes Art, background Byleth/Jeritza, rated M FOR MURDER
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:28:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26214853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idanato/pseuds/idanato
Summary: After Byleth and Jertiza inform Hubert that they’re going to go destroy Shambhala for their honeymoon (and he’s definitely not invited), he and Caspar team up to prove just how good they are at murder, assuming they don’t kill each other first.[Written for the Ultrararepair Big Bang]
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez & Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 26
Kudos: 31
Collections: 2020 Ultra Rarepair Big Bang





	Vestra and Bergliez blow $#!& up.

**Author's Note:**

> Illustrated by [@Basedtaka](https://twitter.com/basedtaka) for the Ultra Rare Pair Big Bang

The sun was up, the birds were singing, and Hubert von Vestra was ready for a brand new dawn. 5 years of war, that was 60 months, 261-ish weeks, 1,825 days, 43,800 hours, 2,628,000 minutes but who was counting? Hubert, Hubert was counting down to when he could finally stop working with TWSITD and start stabbing a knife up behind their sternums where a heart ought to be but wasn’t. Today was finally that day. 

If he was a skipping sort of man, he’d be sashaying down the hall to the war council meeting. He restrained himself to just a couple of self-indulgent cape flourishes as he walked the empty halls of the Imperial Palace in Enbarr. Hubert greeted each Emperor’s portrait and bust with glee; _hello Wilhelm_ , _morning Lycaon_ , all the way to the best emperor in the flesh. “Your majesty,” said Hubert as he bowed with a dramatic snap in front of his best friend forever, Edelgard von Hresvelg, first of her name.

“Hubert, hello, why are you dressed for war?” Edelgard yawned and squinted at his full military regalia. She looked like she had only just woken up, but even her bed head looked regal. 

“I’m here for the meeting, it’s on your itinerary,” started Hubert. He had given her plenty of notice. He knew for a fact it was in big red letters in her agenda because he’d snuck it in there himself. 

Edelgard shook her head, “No. I canceled all that business, I have given the Strike Force a congratulatory break from work.”

“But my work has just begun,” insisted Hubert as he tried not to dance in place with excitement. There were dark mages to dismember, Agarthans to annihilate, and TWSITD to torture!

“I thought you could use a vacation,” said Edelgard with a shrug. “Doesn’t a trip to Morfis sound right up your alley?” She seemed excited for him. 

“Morfis? But, it’s so sunny there,” said Hubert in disbelief that anyone would think he desired to go to that glorified sand pile.

Edelgard frowned, “I suppose you could go to Albinea, I’ve heard it’s dark for part of the year—”

“No, the sunniness is beside the point, I’d like to go take care of our mutual _friends_ , you know, the ones under the ground,” started Hubert as he resisted giving her a knowing wink. He hadn’t earned his vacation yet; he still had this job to do. 

“Byleth and Jeritza are already on it,” said Edelgard as her patience grew thin. “They’ve probably already left.” 

Byleth and Jeritza. Byleth and Jeritza! The Professor and the Death Knight had scooped his pet project and were going to have all the fun? Not if Hubert could help it. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding, this was supposed to be _von Vestra’s_ war, I need to be there.”

“Hubert, you’re my most loyal and longest friend. Just let them take care of things and enjoy yourself. This isn’t a punishment, it’s a reward,” promised Edelgard as she gave his chest a light pat. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Dorothea and I are taking tea together in the gardens. We’d love it if you’d come join us.” 

“No thank you your majesty,” said Hubert softly with a bow. Tea was not a balm that would soothe his ravaged soul. “I’ll, I’ll look into your Morfis suggestion.” Edelgard appeared content with his response as she smiled and continued on to tea. 

Hubert stood alone outside the council room feeling like the wind had been knocked from him. He had been in the most battles of any of the Adrestian Generals. If there was anyone who had proven their devotion again and again to Edelgard’s cause it was him. Hubert swallowed back his disappointment at feeling dismissed from the one thing he’d been looking forward to. Edelgard thought she was doing him a favor in taking him off this and giving him a break, but Hubert hadn’t had a day off since he was six. He didn’t have the first clue as to how to relax. The idea of idling on a beach and crisping up in the sun like a carcass did not appeal to him unless he was burying Agarthans at low tide to watch them subsequently drown in the slowly encroaching waves. 

Fine, he’d take a vacation….to Shambhala! Hubert raced to his rooms to pack his knapsack with his essentials — sleeping bag, garrote, tooth brush, stiletto, pegasus plush, folding razor, ear plugs, noxious handkerchiefs — and bounded down to the gates of the Imperial palace to intercept the gruesome twosome. 

Byleth and Jeritza had actually managed to undo Hubert’s hard-earned image during the war. Hubert was calculating and conniving, a little dramatic and came off as a twinge sadistic. He dressed the part and leaned into his worst impulses on the battlefield. Yet somehow Byleth and Jeritza made Hubert look like a soft embroidered flower wearing sweetheart in comparison to their depravity.

Jertiza had cultivated his dark persona since his teens when he changed his name from something non-threatening like Emile to the Death Knight. That was a little on the nose for Hubert’s tastes, but there was no denying that it fit the ‘possessed by a demon demanding blood’ thing Jeritza had going on. If anything, Hubert appreciated Jertiza’s staunch commitment to the schtick. It was inspiring!

Byleth had been raised among mercenaries, and the rumor was that he first learned to write in blood with knives for want of ink and pens on the road. When Hubert was seven he was hiding his hand drawn pictures of him riding a pegasus from his parents; when Byleth was seven he was learning the kidneys were a reachable place to lethally stab a grown warrior. They were only a year apart in age, but Byleth had clearly _lived_ before the war in ways that Hubert could only imagine. Hubert would never begrudge Byleth the high respect he had clearly earned. 

However, as abstractly amazing as Byleth and Jertiza were, Hubert couldn’t exactly say he got along with either. Hubert loved sarcasm but he never picked any up on their tongues. Those two did not need masks to completely hide their emotions, although Jertiza just wore one sometimes because it went with his outfit. Their unwavering brutality was awe inspiring, and the way they threatened each other sent shivers down Hubert’s spine on the rare occasion he overheard them speaking to one another. They seemed to be the only people on the planet that understood the other, and they had come to be the Adrestian army’s most killer power couple. Frankly, they had together achieved a level of creepy Hubert could only dream of reaching. 

Their horses were already packed with their weapons and supplies. Jeritza’s Scythe of Sariel glinted in the morning sun. It had been freshly oiled and meticulously cleaned even though it was sure to be shortly coated in blood. Byleth no longer had the ability to swing the Sword of the Creator, but he had acquired the Sword of Seiros. It was a bold move to use the spine of the goddess formerly living non-consensually in his head as a weapon, and Byleth had naturally followed that up with using his recently deceased grandmother of sort’s favored blade. It was macabre but who was Hubert to judge? He admired the Professor’s audacity. 

“I’m ready to go,” announced Hubert as he pulled on the straps of his knapsack. This could be fun! It would be just like an old school mission. Although had the church actually cared about routing the Agarthans Hubert suspected the last five years would have been quite different. 

Byleth usually had a perfectly impossible to read face, but he actually looked a touch surprised at Hubert’s presence. “I don’t understand, where are you going?”

Jeritza had stopped adjusting his saddle to stare at Hubert with his intense and infrequently blinking blue eyes. Hubert stood a little straighter, “The Emperor has ordered me to take a vacation, I chose Shambhala with the two of you.” 

After a drawn out pause Jeritza resumed securing his saddle straps, “No.” 

“You can’t just say no--” started Hubert. 

“My apologies,” said Jeritza as he stopped what he was doing again to stare. “No _thank you_.” 

“I would be a great asset to you two,” said Hubert as he gestured with his hands. He was plenty deadly with his magic even if he didn’t have a named sword or a scythe. 

“You don’t have a horse,” said Byleth as he began to get up on his. 

“I’m sure I can get a loaner from the stables,” said Hubert. It was true that he didn’t really care for animals enough to have his own, but he knew Ferdinand wasn’t using his stallion. “It shouldn’t take that long.” 

“You are not welcome to come with us,” said Jeritza as he got up on his mount. “This is a special trip.” 

“I understand how special it is, why do you think I wish to come?” The last thing Hubert needed was a lecture from Jeritza about why killing those which slither in the dark was special. He knew just as well as the Death Knight what those Agarthans were responsible for. Hubert thirsted for vengeance just as desperately as anyone impacted by their accursed meddling. He _needed_ this.

“No Hubert, this is a special trip for _us_ ,” said Byleth as he took Jeritza’s hand in his own. 

Hubert squinted. They were wearing matching rings on their fourth digits. _Fuck_. Hubert imagined them exchanging private vows in the dead of night witnessed only by the stars. “Is this your honeymoon?”

“Indeed, we shall kill our enemies, and perhaps each other before things are through,” smiled Jeritza as he gripped his husband’s hand. Whenever Jeritza flashed teeth into his smile one knew it was sincere even if it was a completely off-putting sight. 

Hubert swallowed and felt completely rejected for the second time this morning. A honeymoon spent killing slithers. That was completely brilliant and so them. _Fuck!_ Hubert built his resolve, “I am very stealthy, you’ll barely notice I’m there.” 

“We’ll notice,” Byleth assured him. “You’re very large.” 

Hubert sighed, this was not a scenario he had ever expected to encounter. He was willing to do absolutely heinous things in laying out Edelgard’s bloody path. In contrast offering himself up as a fuck puppet to these two renown sadists might even be fun, maybe. It would at least be a new experience and Hubert had an open mind! He widened his stance just a little and tried to puff out his chest a bit as he placed his hands on his waist, “I don’t have to be a voyeur, I could be an active participant. My body is a weapon, use it as you see fit.” It was true that Hubert wasn’t very sexually experienced, but he was a fast learner and had it on good authority that his dark spike was of a decent size and temperament. 

Byleth and Jeritza were silent, which almost hurt worse than an immediate no. Jertiza finally sighed and shook his head, “My heart has no room for another. You are mediocre, and the idea of killing you barely gets my blood warm.” 

Byleth stared down at Hubert with a static expression void of emotion, “I believe what Jeritza is trying to say is that offer does not appeal to us.” He locked eyes with his husband as if they had transcended the need for verbal communication, and the two wordlessly pulled on their reins to begin their journey. Hubert followed desperately on foot. 

For a moment Hubert was transported back to the tender age of ten, filled to the brim with terror and abandonment as he chased after Lord Arundel’s carriage. The memory of it speeding away with Edelgard inside, her face pressed up against the back window and screaming his name, still haunted his nightmares. His own voice sounded unfamiliar and desperate to his ears as he shouted, “Please, please take me with you!” Byleth and Jertiza merely picked up speed on their horses and left him behind in the dust. 

Hubert coughed as the air cleared and tried not to feel utterly dejected. Hubert hung his head as he walked from the gates back to the entrance of the Imperial Palace. He was good at killing, he’d show those two assholes. This was von Vestra’s war dammit! If he could just get his own partner, he was determined to kill more TWSITD than Byleth and Jertiza combined. He idly fantasized about how impressed and jealous they’d be. Jeritza would get on his knees begging him to join them. Hubert would look down and whisper, _No_. 

However, he still needed to identify a partner-in-justice. Edelgard was out. She had a fairly important duty as the Emperor to stay in Enbarr, though there was no one he’d rather spend a murderous jaunt like this with. His second choice was Petra, because she was a trained assassin and he respected the hell out of her. However, she was already on a boat to Brigid so she was out too. That left him with a short list of potential candidates: Ferdinand, Dorothea, Bernadetta, and if absolutely nothing else worked out, Linhardt. He definitely would not be asking the person cutting a path towards him now. 

Caspar looked like he had just rolled out of bed and straight into whatever clothes were in the nearest pile on his floor, completely forgoing brushed hair or teeth. “Hey, Hubert! What’s with the packed bag? Where are you headed off to?” 

Caspar was always at a constant minimum two cups of coffee energy level. He was dressed as if he were on his way to go destroy some straw dummies to kick off his day. Since the end of the war Caspar had been ardently trying to get the other Black Eagles to continue working out with him. It was a tough sell because everyone just wanted a break from crunches and punches. 

Hubert did not want to tell him, of all people, about the Shambhala trip. He could deliver even the most farfetched of lies with a serious face, “I’m training.” 

Caspar cocked his head and looked confused, “Training for what exactly?” 

Hubert pulled on his knapsack straps as he tried to improvise. “Rebellions?” 

Caspar looked oddly impressed, “Oh, good on you! Most people figure the end of the war is when things stop, but yeah, don’t let down your guard, my dad always says--”

“Heh, right,” chuckled Hubert to quickly cut off whatever nugget of Bergliez advice was about to drop. Hubert gestured in the direction of his chambers, “Well, I’ve got to go do a thing, so, bye.” 

Caspar’s booming voice echoed down the hall and chased after Hubert as he retreated, “Oh, okay, see you ‘round!” 

Caspar was nice and handy in a brawl, there was no denying that, but he was also supremely annoying. A trip all the way to Shambhala with him was more nightmare than dream. No, Hubert would ask Ferdinand and the two of them would easily outdo Byleth and Jeritza’s stupid murder honeymoon. 

Ferdinand was in his office sitting at his gigantic new desk and fiddling about with his fountain pens. He looked up in surprise, which turned to excitement, as Hubert entered. “Ah! Minister von Vestra. So good to see you, have you come to give me my first important problem to solve as Prime Minister?” He was practically vibrating out of his seat with an unusually nervous energy. His eager to please nature had been sent to new heights now that the war was done and domestic matters needed tending to. 

“No,” said Hubert as he took a seat, “I’ve come with a special mission.” 

“Oh,” said Ferdinand with a disappointed pout. “I was hoping we might finally start talking about free education for the masses.” 

“Naturally, in time, but what do you say to getting your lance and joining me on a trip to the southeast?” Hubert leaned in with what he hoped looked like one impossibly thin eyebrow raised in a suave manner, “You and me, camping, we can even ride together if you’d like--” 

“We are full grown men, that would be very unkind to the horse,” said Ferdinand as his gaze narrowed in on Hubert. “What, pray tell, is in the southeast that has you so wound up?”

Hubert grimaced, “Do you recall what I let slip that one night over drinks about the Emperor’s uncle?” His tongue had been loosened by liquor and his weak attempt at flirting. It had ended with state secrets spilled. 

Ferdinand paled, “Of course I remember, you said he was inhuman.” 

It had not been a metaphor. Lord Arundel was literally not a human; he was a creature of shadows and dark magic twisted into the form of a familiar face. “Yes, well, I’m planning to go destroy his base of operation and kill him and all his minions.” 

Ferdinand sighed and knit his fingers together, “Hubert, how can I put this? You see, Byleth and Jeritza are already assigned to that mission. I do not think they need our help.”  
  
“You knew about this?” Hubert felt his chest growing tight. How could his own second favorite friend neglect to mention something so huge?

“Of course I knew, I signed the paperwork approving their assignment,” said Ferdinand as he gave a smug look at his fancy pens. “That is part of my job as Prime Minister--” 

Hubert lost control for a moment as he slammed his fist on the too big desk, “No! How could you betray me like this?” 

Ferdinand stared at Hubert’s fist and then locked eyes with him, “Do you want to talk through your feelings on this matter?”

Hubert leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. He could feel his frown lines deepening at the suggestion, “No, what I want is your help taking back the mission that is rightfully mine. I have spent years spying on these dastards. I know their habits, I am familiar with their methods, and I have been burning for my revenge for fifteen years!” 

Ferdinand pursed his lips and let a few moments of silence pass for Hubert’s rage to settle. He switched into his politician voice, “I understand you are upset because you feel robbed, but this is a chance for you to learn to step back and allow others to help you. You were relentless in your efforts during the war, but you do not have to be responsible for fighting every single battle. That is why I suggested to the Emperor that she let Byleth and Jertiza handle this in your stead.” 

If Hubert had an aneurysm it would have absolutely burst at the easy admission of total sabotage. “You, _you_ suggested this?”

Ferdinand shrank in his seat as Hubert stood up from his chair to loom over him. Ferdinand raised a hand in an attempt to de-escalate things, “Do not be angry, you need a break.” 

“You think I need a break? The only break I need is from you,” growled Hubert. This was a worse backstab than that time Ferdinand talked him into matching haircuts. Hubert got his and then von Aegir saw it and chickened out, deciding to grow that ridiculous mane instead. 

Ferdinand frowned, “Now you are just being mean. The end of the war represents a huge change for you, but we can work through this transition together.” 

“Spare me,” said Hubert with a disgusted sigh. 

“We all seek out familiar comforts when faced with new situations. I know a murder spree _seems_ like it would make you feel better, but I bet that piping hot tea and stimulating conversation will be more beneficial to you in the long run,” promised Ferdinand with a warm smile. 

“Oh go sign some papers,” grumbled Hubert with as much condescending might as he could muster before he stormed from the Prime Minister's office. 

Hubert was fuming as he paced around the gardens waiting for Dorothea to finish her teatime with the Emperor. He didn’t want to be caught by Edelgard so he lurked near some rose bushes to hide himself in until the coast was clear. 

“ _Psst_ ,” hissed Hubert as Dorothea walked in the direction of her guest room. “ _Psssttttt_.” 

The singer paused with a confused look on her face as she glanced around the desolate gardens, “Hubie?”

“Over here,” said Hubert as he revealed himself and motioned for her to join him in the bushes. 

Dorothea awkwardly climbed through the foliage to the hidden spot and gave Hubert a teasing look as she buried her nose into a rose, “What a, erm, romantic spot. Do you have some sort of confession to make?” She was carefully trying to sit in such a way that would minimize her contact with any soil. 

Hubert had been weaving a sad excuse for a floral garland that he presented to Dorothea, “How would you feel about going on a little jaunt with me, just the two of us?” He played up the velvet tenor of his voice in an effort to lure her in. They had a flirtatious rapport, and Dorothea had even proposed to him once. He could sell this as an intimate getaway. 

Dorothea grinned as she accepted it, “Oh? Where were you thinking, Derdriu? Brigid? Oh, do you need an escort to Morfis? Edie suggested you might be visiting the pyramids.”

“I was thinking about the border of Hrym and Goneril,” said Hubert as he tried to sound like that was as exciting as any of the places she’d named. 

Dorothea frowned, “There’s nothing there.” 

“How do you know? Have you ever visited?” Maybe the mystery would tempt her.

“Well, no--” 

“Then why don’t we go explore, it could be a hidden gem,” suggested Hubert. It could be crawling with Agarthans to kill. 

“And what would our accommodations look like?” Dorothea’s voice was going from excited to annoyed. 

“Don’t you miss sleeping beneath the stars and the feeling of a horse between your legs?” started Hubert. 

Dorothea glared at him, “Hubert, I just spent the last five years camping, I am not interested in a minute more.” She removed the garland and shoved it back into his chest as she stood up. Dorothea started to fight her way through the bushes and back to the garden path. 

“Wait, Dorothea, please, I just need a partner to help me go exterminate a little enemy sect,” said Hubert as he started to chase after her. “It will be thrilling, I promise.” 

“What? No. I hate fighting, I hate killing and being scared of losing friends, no, absolutely not,” said Dorothea in a huff as she brushed the dirt from herself. “Does Edie know what you’re up to?”

Hubert cringed, “She sent Byleth and Jertiza to take care of it.” 

Dorothea glared at him, “If they’re already on it, why do you want my help?” 

“Because it was supposed to be my mission,” said Hubert as he caught up with her. “I promise I’ll take you somewhere extremely nice immediately after! We can go visit some hot springs--” 

“Hey Dorothea, Hubert, what are you two up to?” Caspar waved at them as he approached. He had clearly been to the training grounds since they last spoke and was holding his sweat rag around his neck. 

Before Hubert could say anything, Dorothea gave Caspar a grimace, “Hubert here is trying to rope me into another battle, I’m not interested.” 

Caspar looked at Hubert, “Is that what you were training for earlier?”

Hubert did not want to ask Caspar to join him. “Yes. It’s a special assassination mission.” 

“Huh, well, I’m pretty handy with a pair of gauntlets or an axe if you’re looking for help,” offered Caspar. He shrugged with an easy grin, “I mean, what else am I going to do? I’m a war master with no war.” 

Hubert winced, “Actually, it’s more of a stealth mission. It would be more appropriate for another mage. You understand I’m sure.” 

Caspar looked a little crestfallen at the news, “Oh, right, of course.” 

Dorothea rolled her eyes, “Hubie, take my advice, just let the professionals handle this.” 

Hubert’s hands subtly curled into fists as he crushed the rose garland. Professionals. He was a professional, and because of that he knew he could offer a _quid pro quo_ exchange to the next person on his list. The botanical gardens of the Imperial palace featured an extremely large and well stocked greenhouse. Bernadetta could be predictably located lurking amongst the carnivorous plants enjoying the solitude and practicing her sketching. 

Hubert made sure to fix the embroidered flower she’d made him to his jacket before approaching. He’d interpreted it as a romantic favor, which was embarrassing because apparently it was just Bernadetta’s attempt to accessorize the scary off him. It clearly was not working as she dropped into a soft faint at the sudden sight of him. 

Hubert gently patted Bernadetta’s face until she came to. “Uh, ah, Hubert, don’t sneak up on me like that.”

Hubert refrained from telling her that he was trying to be as obvious as possible about his arrival. “Bernadetta, I’ve come to offer a trade.” 

Bernadetta gulped, “Um, alright, what do you need? I’m happy to make you more flowers, no trade needed.” 

Hubert adjusted the gift on his chest, “It’s lovely, but one is enough. No, I’d like to assassinate your father in exchange--” 

“Excuse me?” peeped Bernadetta as all the color drained out of her face. “Wh-what?”

“Your father, I would gladly permanently remove him, I just need assistance with another assassination,” said Hubert. Honestly, he’d kill Bernadetta’s sire for free but his schedule was a bit booked at present. He could open up an earlier slot for the disgraced Count von Varley if Bernadetta would lend him her bow in Shambhala. 

“No,” cried Bernadetta. 

Hubert cocked his head as he wondered what part of the offer she was objecting to. “I suppose I could toss your mother in too if it sweetens the deal.” 

Bernadetta’s mouth hung open, “Stop talking about murdering my family members! I don’t want you to assassinate my mother, and as for _him_ , he’s under house arrest. I was doing fine not thinking about him until you came along and brought him up!” 

Hubert crossed his arms, “Well you’d never have to think about him ever again if you’d just let me clean him off the face of this earth.” 

“Then I’d have to live with the guilt of having someone killed,” said Bernadetta with despair. She held her sketchbook to her chest, “It’s hard enough having to sleep with the weight of all the people I killed during the war on my conscience, I’m not trying to add any more.” 

If it was anyone else Hubert would be scowling at the suggestion. _Conscience._ Please. Yet Bernadetta was sensitive and he decided it best not to press her on this. “I respect your decision; however, I would still greatly appreciate your help in removing some enemies of the Empire.” 

Her lip was trembling. Hubert swallowed uneasily, “I promise they’re really bad, truly the worst things on the planet, and they need to be dealt with if Adrestia is to be safe.” 

“What did they do?” Bernadetta’s gray eyes were looking a little wet. 

“Oh, what haven’t they done? They torture people, experiment on children, kidnap helpless victims and steal their blood for their crest experiments,” started Hubert. 

Bernadetta looked appropriately horrified, “That sounds really scary.” 

“Indeed, they are extremely scary, and they live in an underground base that only the bravest people would dare descend into,” continued Hubert. “Heh, they make me seem not scary at all,” he added with a chuckle. 

Bernadetta looked petrified at the suggestion. Her voice was very small, “I don’t think I’m the right fit for this job. Bernie would only be a liability.” 

“No! No, I’m sure you’re suited for the job,” said Hubert with a quick reassuring hand wave. _Shit_ , he really shouldn’t have talked up how horrid TWSITD was. Bernadetta felt bad about hunting bunnies with Petra, and bunnies couldn’t even fight back much or beg for forgiveness before one snuffed the life out of them. Rabbits however, to the best of his knowledge, did not conduct secret human experimentation and therefore maybe it was normal to pity them. 

Hubert got down on one knee and took Bernadetta by the hand. Her eyes widened at the gesture, “Bernadetta, you are brave and capable, and there’s no one I’d rather be with in this fight. Besides, the Professor and Jertiza will be there, it’ll be fun!” 

He watched as Bernadetta’s arm hairs raised at that information, “Uh, oh, well if the Ashen Demon and the Death Knight are already going to be there, it sounds like you have plenty of help and definitely don’t need me!” She got up from her seat, “Good day Hubert. Please don’t sneak up on me to ask about this again. Good luck! I’m sure you’ll do great, bye!” She ducked and weaved around him, leaving Hubert alone and still without a proper butchering buddy. 

There was only one person left on his list: Linhardt. At lunch time Linhardt could be found curled up on the grounds enjoying the sun and ignoring whatever book he’d stolen from the Imperial collection. Hubert nudged him repeatedly with his boot, “Linhardt, Linhardt von Hevring. Linhardt wake up.” 

The snore he got back sounded suspiciously like, “Go away.” 

Hubert let out a sigh and then forced a pleasant air. “Linhardt, I’d like to take you somewhere you’ll find very exciting.” No response. Hubert scowled; Linhardt was peripherally aware of TWSITD and their role in giving the Emperor her crest of flames. Linhardt was even working alongside Hanneman trying to understand how to remove it. “What do you think about a field trip to the capital of the Agarthans? We can do some research there.” 

One of Linhardt’s eyes opened exposing a thin sliver of his green irises. “Can I go without you?”

Hubert bit the inside of his cheek to stop from screaming. He faked a calm affect, “No. I’m going, I just thought you might want to join me. I realize you and I don’t always get along--” 

“That’s putting it mildly,” said Linhardt as he sat up to rest against a tree trunk. He gave Hubert a disappointed look. “You’re always seeking me out to lecture me about how lazy and useless you think I am, and yet who rescued you when you attempt to replace sleep with coffee?” Linhardt looked Hubert up and down, “Remind me, how did you thank me for that? I believe you threatened to poison me if I ever told anyone you fainted into my arms.”

“I suppose I can see how you might feel offended by that.” Hubert cringed at the memory of the unfortunate episode. A cure for sleep was something Linhardt could come up with if he applied himself, but wouldn’t out of spite. Hubert shifted tactics, “This is your last chance to scope out some forbidden technology before it gets destroyed. Think about the knowledge you’d be preserving.” 

“No thank you,” yawned Linhardt. “If it’s so spectacular, I’ll independently discover it on my own.” 

“Of all the pompous presumptions--” started Hubert as his eyes flooded with a bright green light. He ended up on the roof. That asshole had warped him to the top of the palace with no way down. 

***

Hubert lost track of the hours wasted fighting his vertigo and trying to figure out a way out of his predicament. Perhaps he could become Minister of the Imperial Roof since there seemed to be no way down. “This is a sign isn’t it?” Hubert stared up at the sky even though he knew Sothis wasn’t there. There was no shade, and the summer sun was sweltering. He’d abandoned his cape and jacket and was still sweating profusely. Maybe he ought to just get himself acclimatized for Morfis because it sure felt like he was never getting to Shambhala.

There was a sudden gust from wings overhead and Hubert heard the non-gentle thump of wyvern feet hitting the roof. His savoir was Caspar. “Hubert! How did you even get up here?”

“Linhardt warped me,” growled Hubert as he gathered up his discarded bits of uniform. He was sure he had a little sunburn going on and his lips were absolutely parched. 

Caspar extended a canteen towards him which Hubert greedily accepted. “Well, come on, let’s get you down.” 

Hubert eyed the wyvern and hoped Caspar understood that under no circumstances was he getting up on that thing. He lived here now. Caspar seemed to sense the mage’s reluctance as he gave his wyvern a friendly pat, “Are you afraid of Chompy?” 

Chompy gave what could be read as a loving snarl as it drooled. Hubert straightened his posture, “Don’t be ridiculous, of course I’m not afraid of your mount.” The thing had a brain the size of a walnut and lived to fly about, eat, and fuck. 

Caspar looked at the saddle, “Do you need a boost? I know it’s kind of difficult to get on one if you’re not experienced.” 

“I am perfectly capable of getting onto a wyvern,” sneered Hubert. He tried not to let his reluctance show as he marched to the wyvern and put one foot into a stirrup. He meant to pull the reins but grabbed one of Chompy’s long fleshy whiskers instead, causing the wyvern to give a warning snap. Hubert, who enjoyed his hands being attached to his body, stumbled back in shock right into Caspar’s arms. 

“Woah, woah, yeah don’t pull on his mating tendrils,” warned Caspar as he picked Hubert up and practically threw him into the saddle. Caspar was an excellent athlete and Hubert landed almost square on the seat. Caspar bounded up behind him and sat behind the much larger man. “Oh uh, huh, I guess I didn’t realize how much you’d block my view!” 

One extremely uncomfortable shuffle later and Caspar was seated in the front of the saddle with Hubert right behind him. Hubert’s throat was growing tight as Caspar talked to Chompy as if it were a cute puppy and not a two-ton bringer of death and destruction. “Who’s a good boy? You are, now let’s go back to your pen, yeah?” 

As Chompy got airborne, a true feat of magical evolution, Hubert instinctively glued himself to Caspar and squeezed his eyes shut. It was embarrassing but acrophobia had been plaguing Hubert since he was a boy who foolishly expressed an interest in being in the flying calvary. He accepted the erroneous rules about men and pegasus, but at one time he had not hated wyverns quite so much. His father had even, with extreme reluctance, allowed Hubert to be taken up on one as a child. 

It had gone much like this, with Hubert filled with the compulsion to vomit and the existential dread of falling and dying. Eventually Hubert felt Caspar giving him an awkward tap and speaking in much the same reassuring, infantilizing tone he’d used on Chompy, “Hubert? Hubert you’re safe, we’re back on the ground.” 

Hubert let himself gracelessly slide from the saddle and into the grass. He laid down and appreciated the soft earth. He even removed his gloves to tenderly stroke some blades of grass, and whispered, “I’ll never leave you again, I promise.” 

Caspar either pretended not to notice the sad display or was really that preoccupied with giving his wyvern a generous scratch with heaps of praise. Eventually Hubert had composed himself enough to sit up and survey the situation. The wyvern was docked and it appeared to be late afternoon. His day had been wasted, and if Jertiza and Byleth had not been waylaid they were probably half the way to Shambhala. Hubert had failed; he was not going to get to go on his mission. 

“So,” started Caspar in a hesitant, drawn out voice. “Uh, I heard you’ve been asking everyone to go with you on that trip.” 

Hubert hung his head and pulled his gloves back on. “Well, no one wanted to go with me, and now it’s too late.” 

Caspar joined Hubert in the grass, “I’ll go. What’s the job?”

Hubert shut his eyes and swallowed as he considered the politest way to explain that Caspar was not suited to this, “It’s a very quiet, sneaky mission. Byleth and Jeritza were sent, just the two of them, to take care of what might be hundreds of dark mages.” Hubert sighed, “These mages are perhaps Fodlan’s greatest threat, and eliminating them is critical for the safety of the new united continent.” 

“That sounds really important, and we only sent two guys? Are you serious?” At the very least Hubert got to appreciate Caspar’s honest look of total disbelief. 

“It’s extremely dangerous. Ferdinand doesn’t want me to go because he thinks I’m too thirsty for revenge, he’s probably right, it’s clouding my judgement,” conceded Hubert as he thought about von Aegir trying to protect him from himself. “Dorothea is afraid of losing someone and is tired of fighting. Bernadetta is right to be scared, because these things are responsible for the worst horrors in the entire world.” Linhardt did not get an honorable mention, because he’d warped Hubert onto a roof and had about a week to enjoy living before Hubert would come for his revenge. 

Caspar looked contemplative, “And why do you want to go so badly?”

Hubert stole a quick glance at his compatriot as he wondered how to describe the things TWSITD had done to the Hresvelgs and others. How they made his skin crawl as they offered up fake crest stones to turn allies into demonic beasts; how they killed off Maucil and Indech to turn their bones into new relics like Aymr; how they stole faces to slide in and invisibly set into action a cascade of terrible events -- Duscar, the Insurrection, instability in the Alliance, provoking Almyra into attacking -- while slowly filling the void of power left in their wake. 

Those were the obvious reasons, and the things that turned him into the man he was. He had been honing his skills for this task for over a decade. Sometimes he swore he’d survived impossible odds in battle powered by his lust for revenge alone. Now his best friends had, in the most well-meaning way, neutered his purpose and given it away to two absolute killing machines. It wasn’t that he didn’t think that Byleth and Jeritza could do this, they most certainly could, it was that they lacked his style and panache. It also meant he was redundant and unnecessary, and that was a new pain he hadn’t expected to deal with quite yet in the immediate aftermath of the war.

“I want to go because this is the only thing I know how to do,” whispered Hubert. 

Caspar bit his lip and looked at the palace, “Yeah. Peace is hard when you’ve only been raised to fight.” Caspar pulled up a blade of grass to play with. “Peace is a good thing, I’m glad the war is over, but, I don’t really have anything to do now. Lin hates fighting, so he’s relieved he finally can get away from the blood and back his books. Dorothea hated fighting too, and I think she’s hoping there’s never any war again.” 

Caspar looked up at the sky, “Edelgard and Ferdinand did their duty, but you could tell they didn’t enjoy battle. It was a necessary evil for them. Petra did it because she wanted to prove that Brigid could stand as an equal with the Empire. Bernie got really brave by the end, but you know she never looked forward to using her bow.” Caspar’s gaze came down to rest on Hubert, “I fucking lived to be on the battlefield, and I think you did too.” 

Hubert could remember the electric thrill of dark magic pulsing through his veins. He sometimes chuckled here and there, but out on the battlefield he had truly, deeply _laughed_. It had been deranged and he knew he put others on edge but he couldn’t control the sheer joy he felt out there. He was lethal, and nothing felt as good as obliterating those standing in Edelgard’s way. Nothing might ever feel as good again. 

Caspar waited out Hubert’s silence and then smiled, “I know you have your Minister of the Imperial Household job to do now, but I imagine it’s a lot of paperwork and dumb stuff that doesn’t really matter. What napkins match this plate? What do we serve at this banquet? How big can we make Edie’s crown?” 

“Please don’t mock me, I’m a more than a head butler,” growled Hubert. 

“I’m not mocking you,” said Caspar. Hubert knew Caspar was too good natured to truly be cruel to his friends, “I’m saying if you want to go do something important, something’s that’s going to make a difference, let’s go do it.” 

Hubert stared at Caspar and contemplated the offer. This was a disaster in the making, “Byleth and Jertiza are probably halfway there. There’s no way we could possibly get there before them.” 

Caspar sneered as he threw a thumb in the direction of the wyvern pen, “Uh, Chompy can get us there plenty fast.” 

“I cannot ride all the way to the southeast corner of Hrym lands on a wyvern. I could barely stand flying down from the roof, that would literally kill me,” said Hubert, his voice as dry as kindling. 

“We don’t have to fly, he runs really fast,” said Caspar. “I mean what’s a wyvern other than wings and two big legs?” Caspar stood up and extended his hand down to help Hubert up, “Come on man, let’s go do what we’re good at and bury some bad guys.” 

Hubert stared at the offer of Caspar’s hand. “They’re already in the ground, their base is subterranean.” He had scared Bernadetta off with that, maybe the same tactic would work on Caspar. 

“So, they’ve already dug their own grave!” Caspar’s optimistic enthusiasm for killing was unrivaled. The fact was that no one else wanted to go and if Hubert was going to get in on this he was going to have to accept Caspar’s help. 

Hubert took his friend’s hand and was pulled to his feet. With a heavy sigh he nodded, “That’s one way to look at it. I’ll brief you on the way there.” 

***

Dawn greeted Hubert as he waited for Caspar at the south entrance of the palace. They were attempting to be as discreet as possible with their plans lest anyone try to stop them. Hubert had weaved a particularly egregious lie that he and Caspar were flying to Brigid for a proper beach vacation. He claimed to want a tan and to drink fruity alcoholic beverages. Edelgard praised his change of heart over the whole Jeritza and Byleth business, and sent her regards for Petra. 

Caspar could be heard coming a mile away as his gear clanked and clattered on Chompy’s back. Hubert rubbed his eyes and wondered if he was hallucinating, “What on earth are you wearing?”

Caspar sounded confused by Hubert’s reaction, “This is my war master gear.” The armor covered his arms, shanks, and chest, but left his thighs perilously unprotected. His shoulders and neck were beckoning to be stabbed. Essentially if anyone wanted a shot at his subclavian or femoral arteries, they were wide open. 

“Don’t you think it’s a little revealing?” It was a lot of skin showing; Hubert barely exposed any skin ever, even now in summer. He was in full uniform, including his cape, and was still considering a hat or something to help further obscure his face. “Shouldn’t you have more protection?” 

Caspar scoffed and poked at Hubert’s shoulder, “You only have deltoid armor.” 

Hubert adjusted the scant plate, “It protects my brachial plexus, I need that to cast.” 

“Yeah? Well this gives me free range of motion,” said Caspar as he went into a deep stretch. “No restrictions.” 

“We’re burning daylight, let’s just go,” said Hubert as he gave a forlorn look at Chompy. He had bigger problems to think about than Caspar’s fashion sense. He needed to devise a plan of attack. 

Flying would have been faster, but Chompy was an efficient biped and could easily handle the weight of two grown men. They got some choice looks as they maneuvered the massive mount through Enbarr but it was not until they got near the city gates that Hubert wondered if this had really been a good idea. He was sure Chompy could get down market street, but it was going to be tight. 

“Hold on for just a sec’,” said Caspar with little warning as Chompy broke into a run. A terrified fruit vendor’s eyes widened as the wyvern picked up speed. As soon as Chompy’s wings began to beat, Hubert instinctively held on for dear life as they went airborne. They got to a decent height and then easily glided over the city walls. 

“What the hell was that for?” demanded Hubert when they came in for a landing about a mile out from the city. 

“Oh, there was a line at the gate, this was faster,” shrugged Caspar as Chompy assumed a respectable ground running speed. 

“Please do not improvise. When we make plans, we stick to them,” hissed Hubert. Strategy was Hubert’s cornerstone, and there was nothing more dangerous than an unpredictable variable like Caspar. 

Caspar chuckled, “Plans are great, but even you can’t predict everything. As my dad always says, ‘Improvise, saves lives’.” 

“That barely rhymes,” grumbled Hubert as he bumped up and down in his seat with each pendular sway of Chompy’s mass.

“Alright, how about I just yell when I’m going to change something?” It wasn’t really so much a question as it was a declaration. 

It had only been twenty minutes and this trip was already miserable. Hubert took a deep breath and tried to think about the people skills seminar Dorothea had strong armed him and Edelgard into attending. Dorothea had three three easy steps for them to follow: Compliment, critique, compliment. Edelgard and Hubert had quietly agreed afterwards that they would modify it slightly to compliment, critique, conquer. 

“Caspar you are certainly the finest screamer of the strike force,” said Hubert as he watched the trees passing them by. “But this job requires a delicate touch--” 

“If that were true, Edelgard and Ferdinand wouldn’t have sent Jeritza and Byleth,” laughed Caspar. “Have you ever seen Byleth try to remove a splinter? I swear I watched him almost carve off his whole finger one time.” 

“Byleth and Jertiza were sent because they’re completely unhinged, not because they’re better than me,” said Hubert in a huff. 

“No one said they were better,” said Caspar quietly. He sucked in a breath in the loudest way possible, “Hubert, do you need to talk about your feelings?” 

“No,” said Hubert flatly. 

Caspar exhaled with relief, “Oh good, because I am not good at that kind of shit.” He pulled on Chompy’s reins and pointed towards the horizon. In a deep voice he belted out, “To Shambhala!” 

Hubert gently adjusted Caspar’s arm in the correct direction, “It’s this way.” 

***

They had made good progress and by nightfall Hubert was feeling strangely optimistic about their chances. He got out his first carefully portioned jar of pickled seafood and vegetables for dinner. It was a Dagdan dish of raw fish and earthy turnips, pickled in a tangy vinegar brine. Hubert found it delicious and it was shelf stable so he had packed quite a bit. 

Caspar gagged as the lid of the jar came off, “Ugh, Hubert what is that?”

“Pickled shrimp and turnips, would you like some?” Hubert extended the potent jar towards his road companion. 

Caspar covered his nose, “No way, I’m good.” Caspar began routing around in his own bags and pulled out a massive sack of jerky. 

Hubert enjoyed jerky as a snack but it was hardly a meal. “Is that all you brought?” If TWSITD didn’t kill Caspar, scurvy surely would. 

Caspar gnawed upon the jerky and swallowed what had to be a super dry bite, “No, I have vegetable pasta salad.” He pulled up a revolting jar of oil packed pasta and chunks of raw onion, cabbage, and carrots. Hubert suppressed his revulsion at the unfathomably popular dish. Pasta was to be enjoyed hot, not cold, and only he and a handful of others at Garreg Mach seemed to understand that. 

Hubert finished his dinner and set the emptied jar upon the ground, “We need to discuss our ambush plans.” 

Caspar scrunched up his face, “Eh, I’m not really keen on sneaky quiet stuff. If I can see the enemy, I feel like there’s a good chance they can see me, so I might as well just go for it.” 

“Well, there are steps you can take to train yourself to not be seen,” suggested Hubert. He was an expert in lurking in the shadows waiting to strike. 

“I mean, I _can_ sneak, I choose not to,” clarified Caspar as he picked a bit of jerky from his teeth. 

Hubert was sure he’d never seen Caspar be stealthy once in the six years they’d known each other. “We’re sneaking in. We can’t launch a two person assault on a fortress,” said Hubert deftly as he grabbed a stick and began to trace lines of attack in the dirt as if the jar was Shambhala. 

Caspar rummaged in his own bag and pulled out a pair of brass knuckles. He set it near the jar, “This is me. And uh, you can be this cool rock.” He arranged the items in front of Shambhala. 

Hubert edged the objects towards the east of the jar. “My spies inform me that there is a hidden entry point to the compound used for waste removal.” 

Caspar frowned, “You want to sneak in through the poop chute?” He did not bother to hide his disgust. 

_Poop. Chute_. “It’s not a refuse pipe. It’s a drain for an organic waste midden. They compost because they farm all their food underground in artificial light and this is good for sustainable farming.” 

“Oh, oh that’s so much better,” said Caspar in a serious tone. His face broke into a smile, “I’ve been practicing my sarcasm, was that good?” 

“Please be serious,” said Hubert through clenched teeth. Sarcasm was _his_ thing. It was bad enough Linhardt did it; Caspar didn’t get to too. 

“So, what kind of food do they grow, what do they eat?” asked Caspar between bites of pasta salad.

Hubert wished Caspar could stay on topic for more than a minute, “I am told Shambhala is self-sufficient. Apparently, they grow many root vegetables, like onions and garlic, and there is a native population of eels that occupy the underground caves for protein.” 

“Oh man, I bet their breath is so bad,” laughed Caspar. 

“Focus. We’re going to sneak in through where they take out the compost, and then we’ll start killing,” said Hubert. 

“How many mages live in this place?” 

“Excellent question,” said Hubert as he stalled. He had no idea. His spies who had gone into the compound had never resurfaced. However, Hubert suspected the _bona fide_ Agarthans had to be few in number given the complex nature of the magic that kept them alive. “Maybe we should try to figure that out before storming in.” 

“They probably have patrols, we could capture one, and question them,” suggested Caspar as he sucked in a big forkful of pasta. 

“That’s, that’s not a bad idea,” admitted Hubert. 

“One might even say it’s a good idea?” said Caspar with his mouth full of food as he finished his gross pasta salad. 

“Don’t push it, we have to see if it works first,” warned Hubert. 

***

Raphael Kirsten had once bragged about running across the entire continent in one day. While that was laughable -- Raphael was the least aerodynamic student and built more for breaking down walls than endurance running -- it was true that Fodlan was small. Small enough that after two days of travel, Caspar and Hubert were near enough to Shambhala that they could ambush a patrol. They’d chosen some high ground for their stake out and had been watching in the changing guard shifts for the last day. 

So far they’d seen no traces of Jeritza or Byleth, and Hubert hoped the honeymoon aspect of their trip was holding them up. “Yes, make sweet love beneath the bushes, and let me take care of business,” muttered Hubert under his breath as he and Caspar watched TWSITD’s base from their hidden camp. 

“What?” Caspar looked over in confusion. 

“Nothing,” said Hubert in a rush. “Alright, I believe it is safe to say patrols go out every two hours in pairs.”

“Cool, let’s go catch some mages--” announced Caspar as he started to get up. 

Hubert grabbed Caspar by the cape and forced him back down into their hidden spot, “Wait, if we take a pair that then does not come back it will raise alarm. Once we capture them, we will have a limited window in which to turn any information we get into a plan of assault.” 

Caspar was squirming in his seat, “Alright, capture, question, um, conquer.” 

“Yes, precisely, but you must keep them conscious, that will be critical, we don’t have time for them to come to, every second counts,” said Hubert. 

Caspar counted off on his fingers, “Capture, _conscious_ , questions, conquer.” 

“Yes, good, alright, we will intercept the patrol here,” said Hubert as he laid out the rough map of the area he’d been making. He pointed to a spot near Shambhala, “That will maximize our interrogation and planning time.” 

“Okay, we wait, we attack--” 

“No, no, we wait, we trip them, trap them, and then we question,” 

“Woah, woah, we’re not attacking?” asked Caspar in disbelief. 

“Conscious Caspar, we need them conscious. We’ll use a trip cord,” said Hubert. He found when he used a direct and matter-of-fact tone people questioned him less. “As soon as you reveal yourself, we’ll be in a fight.” 

“So?” Caspar pantomimed punching out two slithers, “Pa-pow, one and done.” 

“Just stick to the plan. We’ll set the trap, then we both work to secure them. You can give them a little punch I suppose,” said Hubert. Caspar nodded a little too enthusiastically. Hubert held up his fingers to demonstrate a small pinch, “A little punch only, a tiny punch.” 

“They’ll barely feel it, I promise,” said Caspar gleefully. He gave Hubert an exuberant elbow to the ribs and a not subtle wink, “Although, they _will_ feel it.” 

Hubert wiped his face to compose himself and bring his head into the necessary mind space for a confrontation. “Let’s go get into position.” 

With Chompy secured out of sight and hidden beneath some extra foliage, Caspar and Hubert crept to the location where they would ambush the patrolling Slithers. Hubert patiently tied his knots until Caspar hung over his shoulder, “Hubert, that is not high enough.” The other end of the trip cord that Caspar had tied was nearly knee high.

Hubert gave his end a sure tug, “Of course it is. We don’t want them to see it. You should lower yours.” Caspar snorted but it didn’t matter, they could hear the patrol approaching. Hubert made a hand signal to hide. 

“What does that mean?” asked Caspar in a loud whisper. 

“Just take cover,” hissed Hubert as he hauled Caspar by the neck of his chest plate and into a bush.

It was not two mages but three, but that was no problem. Hubert was crouched and ready to dart out. To his horror the first mage just stepped right over the trip line. 

“See I told you it wasn’t high enough,” hissed Caspar. 

The Agarthan mage spun around at the noise, “Someone is here.” 

Hubert and Caspar locked eyes for a second. Hubert mentally willed Caspar to be quiet and stay put. Caspar smirked and tightened his grip on his axe before launching himself from their hiding place and onto the patrol path. 

Dark magic immediately crackled in the air and Hubert had no choice but to follow and join the attack. Caspar’s fighting was a sight to behold. He was fast and he hit hard. However, he also announced every single move he was about to make. 

“And a slice here,” yelled Caspar as he swung his axe right into the neck of the nearest mage. Blood sprayed out and coated Caspar’s arms and face as he hooted in victory. 

“Keep them alive,” ordered Hubert as he used his weakest spell, Miasma Δ, in an attempt to disable the mage nearest him. 

Hubert felt arms wrapping around his neck. His attacker cried out to the other mage that was still breathing, “They must be spies! We need to take them to Thales for interrogation.” 

_No_. Hubert clawed at the arm compressing his airway but it did not budge. From his limited vantage point he could see Caspar was similarly trying to escape a particularly nasty dark magic spell enclosing his head. 

As his vision began to dot with black, Hubert considered that this was not the way he thought he’d go. He’d long had the feeling he would die young, but he had really been hoping for a more heroic end than captured and tortured by his worst enemies. Even a pyrrhic victory was still a win in his books; this was just going to be an absolutely brutal way to be killed. 

The sound of metal slicing through air, then flesh, filled his ears as the head of his assailant rolled forward over Hubert’s shoulder. Hubert fell forward on all fours with the decapitated mage still on his back as he gasped for air. A familiar set of feet strolled past him as Byleth took out the mage choking Caspar. Jertiza nudged the decapitated mage off of Hubert with his boot. 

Byleth’s teal eyes were fixed on Hubert, “What are you doing here?” He didn’t sound angry, just disappointed. 

“We’re here to help,” said Hubert in a hoarse voice as he rubbed his neck. 

“We already informed you we need no help,” said Jeritza as he looked at Caspar panting on the ground. 

“You have no idea what you’re walking into, you need more than two people,” argued Hubert. 

Byleth wrapped his hands around the shoulders of Hubert’s jacket and pulled the mage up to his eye level, “No. Emperor Edelgard sent the two of us because if we fail, it will look like two renegades acting on their own. If you are found, in your Imperial uniform, it will be an open declaration of war.” Byleth dropped Hubert back to the ground. “Imagine the pillars of light falling on Enbarr, because that is what will happen if Thales suspects the Emperor has ordered her right-hand man here.” 

Hubert stared at the ground and felt a sudden feeling of emptiness in his soul. “That would not be very good.”

“No Hubert, it would not be very good at all,” said Byleth as he paced the clearing. “What was your plan anyway?”

Hubert felt incredibly stupid as he thought of their half-baked idea, “There is a waste dump on the east side of the compound. We were planning to sneak in through there and attack.” 

“Thank you for the information,” said Byleth dryly. “That is useful to us.” 

“Go home,” ordered Jeritza. 

“We will take care of this. In the unlikely event we fail, then you can take your shot,” said Byleth. “I hope you will attempt to be smart about it if there is a next time.”

“Yes Professor,” whispered Hubert as his dreams died inside his heart. 

The walk back to Chompy was painful and silent as Hubert massaged his bruised neck. Caspar hung his head as he unhitched his mount and gave a last look in the direction of Shambhala. 

“I can’t believe I thought we could do this,” muttered Hubert as he let out a long sigh. 

Caspar picked up his gauntlets that he had not even had the chance to use, “Well, I still believe in us, even if the professor and his husband don’t. What do they know anyway—” 

“They’re literally combat instructors, and we embarrassed ourselves against three Slithers. How did we think we could take on three hundred?”

“Easy, I just don’t think,” said Caspar in a serious voice. 

“Your sarcasm still needs work,” said Hubert with a listless sigh. 

“I’m not being sarcastic,” said Caspar. “I guess what I meant is I never _overthink_. I just do things I believe are the right thing to do in the moment. Sometimes that doesn’t work out how I think it will, but sometimes when you improvise, you,” 

“Save lives,” finished Hubert with Caspar. He crossed his arms and looked at Shambhala. “This is bigger than us, let’s just go.” 

“Do you really think Byleth and Jeritza are going to do better than us?”

“I do, maybe not much better, but still,” whispered Hubert. He knew when to retreat. 

“Well, I think four maniacs are better than two. We can still go help finish this, but we’ll do it our way,” said Caspar with a determined glint in his bright blue eyes. 

“How do we get in?” challenged Hubert; against his better judgement he was beginning to entertain a spur of the moment plan. “If we go the same way as Byleth and Jeritza they might kill us for not listening.” 

“We just killed three mages, we put on their uniforms and walk on in,” said Caspar as he walked two fingers across his palm. 

“That might work,” said Hubert slowly. 

“Don’t overthink it, it’s going to work,” said Caspar as he put a reassuring hand on Hubert’s shoulder. “It’s going to work because _we’re_ doing it.” 

In their stolen dark mage uniforms, they almost looked the part. Caspar was a little too short for his, and the hem was dragging on the ground. His armor created a sort of lumpy looking effect beneath the robes. Hubert was a bit too tall for his, and up to mid-shin was visible allowing his cape to peek out. It was also extremely difficult to see through the signature beaked mask. At least the robes were black and therefore the bloodstains didn’t show. 

“It’s dark underground, I bet they won’t even notice. I mean I can hardly see shit through this mask,” suggested Caspar as they approached the massive stone staircase that descended towards Shambhala. “I bet we’ll just waltz right in--” 

“Halt, what’s the password?” The front gate was guarded by a dark mage stationed down in the shadows. The masked guard marched up the steep stairs and looked between Hubert and Caspar. “Hey, aren’t you a little tall to be a dark mage?”

Hubert felt a trickle of sweat roll down his neck in the stuffy ensemble, “I beg your pardon?” 

The guard folded his arms and looked at Hubert’s feet, then back up at his mask, “You just have to be the tallest dark mage I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a lot of dark mages.” 

“I’m new,” said Hubert. “And because I’m new, I forgot the password?” The strategy was worth a shot. Hubert threw up his arms into an overwrought shrug for good measure. 

“Oh, I got ya password right here,” said Caspar enthusiastically as he proceeded to punch the dark mage right in the beak. The guard fell back and banged and bumped down the flight of stone stairs. He hit the entrance with a crunch. 

The two Black Eagles stared down at the motionless body. “I think you killed him,” said Hubert with a soft twinge of admiration. 

Caspar pumped his fist in the air with glee, “Okay, that’s one. How many more do you think there are?” 

“Let’s go find out,” said Hubert as he led the way into the dark depths of Shambhala. 

Caspar gave a shrill whistle and Chompy strode over to them. Hubert stared in disbelief, “You’re bringing your wyvern?”

“Well I can’t just leave him alone out here,” protested Caspar as he pulled the reluctant mount down the stairs. “He understands what we’re here to do.”

Hubert knew his dubious expression was hidden by his mask but Caspar seemed to pick up on it anyway as he tightened his grip on the reins, “He eats people! I’m bringing him.” Shambhala looked like the last place on earth the wyvern wanted to be, but Hubert was beyond arguing at this point. 

He almost immediately discovered why a tall mage was an unusual sight as he smacked his forehead straight into the top of the doorway. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” murmured Hubert as he had to crouch to move through the low ceilinged tunnel. Chompy was practically filling the entire diameter of the space as Caspar pulled upon the reins with an unwavering grip. 

Caspar hummed along to the extremely strange soft sounds echoing as they walked through the tunnel. The thumping music grew louder as they continued and it was clear they were approaching a main hub of sorts. Caspar’s whistling died down as it became clear some of the ‘music’ was in fact screams of mortal terror. “I guess Byleth and Jeritza got in through the poop chute after all.” 

“It is a refuse drain, stop calling it that ridiculous term,” hissed Hubert as they neared the main room. They were met with pure unadulterated chaos with Jertiza front and center cutting through an absolute smorgasbord of doomed dark mages. 

“Wait, where’s Byleth?” asked Caspar as they leaned over a railing to stare. A flash of steel answered his question. 

Hubert ripped the mask from his face before Byleth could try to swing again, “It’s us, it’s us!” 

Byleth blinked at them a few times as if not believing what he was seeing. “What are you doing here?” It was clear from his soiled armor he had shimmied through the plumbing to get there, but Hubert wasn’t about to bring up the strong smell at a time like this. 

Caspar ripped off his mage disguise and fixed his gauntlets in place, “We’re here to lend you a hand! Four hands, and two wings!” Chompy gave an unenthusiastic whimper. 

Byleth had that same look on his face he’d have when getting the report on how stable duty had gone when Hubert and Ferdinand were assigned to work together. Byleth took a deep breath, “Alright then, take the western half, and don’t get in our way. We’re taking out the center.” 

_The center_. Surely that was where Thales would be holed up. Hubert itched to be down there in the fray, but Byleth was already bounding to his husband’s side. Hubert decided in that moment it didn’t make any difference who dealt the final blow to Thales, it only mattered that it happened. “We have our orders, let’s finish this,” said Hubert as he ripped off the rest of his disguise. 

Caspar let out a whoop and broke into a run, with Hubert and Chompy right behind him. Caspar punched, screamed, and even caught one poor bastard right in the gonads. Chompy chomped. Hubert readied Dark Spikes T for the incoming cavalry. They never stood a chance as his dark magic ripped through them with the force of his years of bottled up rage and aggression. 

Hubert felt alive for the first time since the final battle of the war. The tips of his gloves incinerated as he sent Death ⌈ towards an incoming Agarthan. A wonderful familiar sensation welled up within his stomach and worked its way up his throat as Hubert belted out his signature guffaw. This battle was the true spoil of the war for him. This was his moment of glory and victory. He felt truly berserk as he let his fury funnel into the most powerful spellcasting he’d done in his life. 

  
_Original art by Basedtaka_

Caspar’s gauntlets flashed in the unnatural blue light that pulsed in the walls and upon the floor. Hubert cheered as Caspar downed yet another mage. “How many are you at?” called Hubert as he basked in the glory of his kills. 

“Five, no, six,” said Caspar as he decked a mage. “Who’s next? Get in line!” 

“I’m only at four,” hissed Hubert as they finished clearing out the little area they were in. 

“That’s pretty good, how many more do you think there--” Caspar’s question died in his throat as a terrible siren began to wail. A gated door on the other side of the chamber was slowly rising, revealing the Slither’s reinforcements. “Shit, that’s a lot.” 

Hubert glanced over his shoulder and with just seconds to spare he downed a mage about to cast at Caspar. One Banshee Θ later and the mage was no more. Caspar returned the gesture by tackling Hubert to the ground as Chompy swung his thick tail at an incoming mage and sent the unfortunate bastard flying through the air. 

“There’s uh, there’s a lot more than I thought there would be,” grunted Caspar as he pulled Hubert up to his feet. They looked toward the center where Byleth and Jeritza were back to back, surrounded by a mob. In less than a minute Hubert was sure he and Caspar would be similarly overrun. 

“There,” pointed Hubert towards an open door just ahead of them. “We get out of the open and come up with a strategy.” He looked down at Caspar, “Together.” 

“Right,” panted Caspar as he looked at the mages in their path. “Let’s do this.” 

They fought their way through the remaining mages and forced themselves into the small room filled with panels covered in buttons of all different colors. Caspar worked on barricading the door using Chompy while Hubert took out the Argarthan in charge. 

Lights were flashing in a disorienting way and a massive map of Fodlan dominated the wall. There was an X over the spot where Arianrhod had once been. _Arianrhod_. Hubert would never forget the joy of that victory turning into bitter ashe in his mouth as the pillars of light rained down upon the Silver Maiden. “I think I know what this is.” 

Caspar was looking at his battered gauntlets with a forlorn expression, “I think I only have a couple hits left.” 

Hubert’s own magic was also beginning to wane. There were now hundreds of mages between them and the exit. Byleth and Jertiza, as accomplished as they were, were still only two men. Hubert looked back at the map, “I want you to take Chompy and get the hell out of here.” 

Caspar stared at Hubert. “What are you planning?”

Hubert gulped, “I’m going to pull a goddess damned Arianrhod on this place.” Saying it outloud made it feel so very real. This was it. This was how he died. It would be worth it. 

A lopsided grin split across Caspar’s face, “Well you’re not going to do it alone.” 

“No, Caspar you still have time, you can fly towards the exit, you can get out if you go now,” insisted Hubert. He had pledged long ago to bring down Thales and TWSITD no matter the cost. Caspar hadn’t signed up for that. Hubert wasn’t going to let his friend throw his life away. 

“Why would I do that?” 

“Because I’m not going to make it, I have to stay behind to trigger the weapon,” said Hubert. No more snark, no more sarcasm. “I’m choosing this, but not for you.” 

Caspar removed his weathered gauntlet and grasped Hubert’s forearm, “A Bergliez never leaves a man behind. You and me, we’re ride or die. I’m staying to see this through to the end, with you.” He craned his head to spy the control panel, “Now, how the fuck do you work that thing?”

Hubert turned and looked at the map. Beneath it were two massive dials. “I think we need that ‘X’ over Shambhala.” 

“Okay, I’ll take the right one, you do the left,” said Caspar as he wrapped his arms around the big dial. They were extremely difficult to move, but with the two of them working in tandem they eventually moved the mark from Arianrhod far in the northwest, to Shambhala down in the southeast. 

“How much do you want to bet it’s that big ass red lever that we have to pull?” Caspar was staring at a bright crimson metal rod that was easily as tall as he was. 

“I don’t gamble,” huffed Hubert as he wrapped his hands around it. The thing did not budge. Hubert looked at Caspar, “I believe this is going to be goodbye.” 

“I just thought you said you didn’t take bets,” sneered Caspar with an easy confidence as he joined in pulling the lever with all his strength. 

There was a horrible screech of metal on metal as they forced the lever down. The floor beneath them began to shake so violently that Hubert was thrown from his feet. Caspar lifted him back up, “Come on, let’s go!” 

“I don’t think there’s time,” said Hubert as Caspar climbed up on Chompy and pulled Hubert up behind him. 

“We won’t know unless we check!” Caspar snapped Chompy’s reins, “Here we go!” 

The wyvern busted down the door and let out a fearsome snarl as it went airborne in the cavernous room. Hubert fought his fear of heights long enough to watch Byleth slam his sword up through Thales. It was finally over. Even though Hubert wasn’t the one to deal the final blow, he had been here to witness the end to this horror. Caspar brought Chompy in for a landing right by Byleth and Jeritza, maybe crushing a few mages beneath the wyvern’s feet. Nearby slithers scrambled to get out of jaw-snap-range. 

“I activated the pillars of light,” said Hubert somberly from atop the Wyvern. There was an ominous whistle that was growing louder, which could only be the approaching missiles. “We’re going to bury this place once and for all.” 

Byleth nodded, and then swept Jeritza into a passionate kiss. Hubert cast his gaze up to the heavens and what was sure to be their doom down in this hell. 

“We get one shot at this,” said Caspar with a fierce determination as he tightened his grip on the reins. 

Hubert’s moment of acceptance of his fate was interrupted, “What do you mean?” 

“Oh, I’m going to fly us out of here,” promised Caspar as the first missile struck. “This better work!” 

Chompy emitted a roar as he did a vertical takeoff. His talons wrapped around Byleth, who was holding on tight to Jeritza. Hubert flung his own arms around Caspar and held on for dear life. Even with his eyes shut, Hubert could see the brightness of the pillars and feel their heat searing his exposed skin. He had his own, borrowed, war cry to help spur them on, “Improvise, saves lives!” 

Caspar maneuvered Chompy with only the bold fearlessness in the face of death that he was capable of. Hubert forced his eyes open; he didn’t want to die with them shut, and looked at the incoming ferocity of the Agarthans’ own weapons dropping down upon Shambhala. 

Hubert felt an oscillating sensation of his stomach pulling up into his throat and down into his gut as they dodged and wove through the chaos. The overbearing ringing in his ears overpowered all sound. Yet Hubert heard the memory of an opera in his mind as he turned and looked at the accursed subterranean fortress being driven further down into the earth in a mix of flame of fury. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever witnessed. For the first time ever, flying felt good; it felt right. The pillars could take him now, Hubert was finally at peace.

And yet most unexpectedly he was still alive. Byleth and Jerizta dropped softly to the ground as Chompy came in for a landing. Caspar patted Hubert’s arms, still tightly wrapped around the war master’s middle, “We made it. You can let go now.” 

“Today, the sun sets in the east,” declared Hubert quietly as the four of them gathered to watch the fiery mushroom cloud rising up from the place where Shambhala once stood. Jeritza was crying silently as he and Byleth held each other's hand in a death grip. Hubert draped his arm over Caspar’s shoulder in as close a thing to a hug as he could manage. This was the greatest gift any friend had ever given him. 

Caspar glanced up at Hubert, “So, what do we do now?” 

_1 Week Later_

Hubert sensed a shadow crossing his face. He opened his eyes and squinted to see Caspar blocking the sun with a coconut in each hand. “I have to say, I was a little worried when you suggested Brigid, but this is turning out to be a great vacation!” 

Hubert toasted Caspar’s coconut with his own and took a sip of a deliciously fruity alcoholic beverage. “Well, I did tell Edelgard this was where we were heading. I didn’t want to completely lie to her, and she’ll probably die of happiness when I come back with a tan.” Technically his skin had been burned in the explosion but Hubert was sure Edelgard wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. 

“So, swimming later?” suggested Caspar as he reclined on his blanket. 

“Let’s not worry too much about plans,” yawned Hubert as he settled back into his nap. He’d never been on a proper vacation before and he didn’t want to overthink things. Chompy, curled up just behind them, let out an approving growl. It was finally time to relax. 

**Author's Note:**

> Please check out & like [ the art ](https://twitter.com/basedtaka/status/1300448509330628612/photo/1) posted on twitter!
> 
> Find more art by [@Basedtaka](https://twitter.com/basedtaka) here  
> Shout out to AO3 user Okanehime for inspiring this fic by asking what Hubert and Caspar would look like in canon after reading a romantic modern AU Hubert/Caspar story I wrote. 
> 
> Anyone has my blessing to write the sequel “Murder Boyfriends” if they feel so inclined


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